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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508182">Like A Dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherleigh/pseuds/sherleigh'>sherleigh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SHINee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brief appearances by jinks jjong ming and padding squad, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:21:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherleigh/pseuds/sherleigh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument between Kibum and Taemin leads to consequences Taemin could never have imagined.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Taemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kibum is angry.</p><p><br/>He’s being deliberately loud – banging his mug down on the counter, letting the cupboard door fall shut with a slam – and both the noise and Kibum’s temper aggravate Taemin’s already merciless headache. It has been a long and frustrating day and whatever energy Taemin has to deal with conflict is exhausted. But Kibum is only ever loud like this when he wants to make a point, when he wants to show his anger, so Taemin plays the dutiful boyfriend and asks “What’s wrong?” and hopes that the issue will blow over quickly.</p><p><br/>"Why would something be wrong?”</p><p><br/>Those hopes are dashed by Kibum’s response. “Hyung.” Kibum rolls his eyes and waves at the sink, and Taemin immediately knows what’s gone wrong; and then a feeling of weariness settles on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. They’ve had this argument before and he doesn’t care to rehash it now.</p><p><br/>He quickly moves over to the sink to wash the bowl, chopsticks and pot that he had used earlier to make ramyeon. The cold, oily water that spills over his hands disgusts him and Taemin finds his own temper flaring; would it really have killed Kibum to turn a blind eye to 3 unwashed utensils? He lets the chopsticks clatter noisily as he reaches for the bowl. Two can play at this game.</p><p><br/>Of course, Kibum does not let it pass. “Are you for real?”</p><p><br/>When Taemin does not reply, he continues “Do you know how much I hate this? I don’t ask for much, you know? It’s not like I say the dishes must be done immediately or within a specific time limit. I shouldn’t even have to ask you not to leave things in the sink overnight, it’s common sense that it’ll make the house damp and smell bad. It’s bad enough that I have to explain something so simple to you, it just goes in one ear and out the other, and I have to be this… this nag-” Kibum breaks off, shaking his head. “I’ve said so much and you can’t even fucking apologise-”</p><p><br/>“What’s the point, you clearly won’t believe that I forgot-”</p><p><br/>“The point is to admit that you’re wrong. God, your ego-” Taemin shuts the tap off and turns to face Kibum; if he wants an argument so badly, Taemin will oblige. He’s not some carpet that Kibum can walk over. “You want to talk about ego? Fine. Let’s talk about how your ego has you – and me – scrubbing pots and pans like we live in the 1960s instead of using a dishwasher like everyone else! You won’t buy one, you won’t let me buy you one-”</p><p><br/>“Don’t start,” Kibum warns, which Taemin finds humourlessly funny since he was the one to start this argument.</p><p><br/>“No, you won’t let me buy you one because you’d never buy something like that for me and your ego has us pretending that we make the same amount of money and that what’s expensive to you is expensive to me, and that’s why we have to stay in your tiny, dishwasher-less flat when mine is so much nicer.”</p><p><br/>“Fuck you.” Kibum’s voice is flat, as if he’s too shaken to put any real emotion into his retort, and Taemin realises he’s crossed a line.</p><p><br/>“Whatever,” he says, drying his hands on his pyjamas. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”</p><p><br/>Kibum doesn’t follow him.</p><p><br/>Taemin hesitates at the threshold of the bedroom, just for a second, upon seeing the sag of Kibum’s shoulders – his hyung has never looked so small as he does in this moment – but the moment passes and the little spark of pity in Taemin’s chest is snuffed out by his own weariness. Whatever the fallout is, he’ll deal with it tomorrow.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alarm goes off. Taemin doesn’t feel rested at all, but at least his headache is gone. The sheets rustle, the alarm is silenced; the memory of their argument leads Taemin to hold his breath, to pretend to be asleep still, because he knows he will have to face Kibum’s justified anger otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>“Yah, get up.” Kibum’s voice is sleep-rough, but not noticeably angry.</p><p> </p><p>“Five minutes,” Taemin says, not because he needs it but because that’s what he always says, and he waits for Kibum to respond like he always does; with a long-suffering sigh and a kiss pressed to his head, a gentle hand running through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>He gets one but not the other. Kibum heaves a sigh which is not altogether affectionate, kicks his way out of the blankets and goes into the bathroom. Taemin sits up, fully awake. His earlier assessment is wrong; Kibum is most definitely still angry. He kicks himself as he recalls the hateful words he’d thrown at Kibum yesterday over so small an issue. As much as his friends and family like to poke fun at his absent-mindedness, he’s not the sort to intentionally disrespect the rules in someone else’s house.</p><p> </p><p>Breakfast, he thinks. That’s how he’ll apologise.</p><p> </p><p>Comme des and Garcons come running when he exits the bedroom and he takes a moment to pet them both. They follow him, running between his legs and whining for more attention, as he get the coffee going and gathers ingredients for a simple yet satisfying breakfast. For carb-conscious Kibum, he decides to make eggs and an open-faced peanut butter and banana sandwich, and for himself, his usual breakfast of chocolate cereal in milk. He hums a song to himself as he cracks two eggs into a pan, taking care to keep the yolks whole because that’s how Kibum likes them, and lets them fry as he reaches for his cereal-</p><p> </p><p>-only to find his fingers grasping at air. His cereal is missing. Did he run out and not notice, Taemin wonders. It’s certainly happened before, but he definitely recalls the box being more than half-full yesterday. Did Kibum hide it or throw it away? As soon as the thought occurs to him, Taemin dismisses it; Kibum is not so petty or cruel.</p><p> </p><p>As he’s mulling over the mystery of his missing cereal, Kibum steps out of the bedroom. He’s already dressed, which is unusual because he likes to eat breakfast in his pyjamas so that his clothes don’t smell of food. His eyes widen with surprise when they land on the kitchen. Taemin nervously waits for his response, hoping that the plating of the eggs and toast and the relative un-messiness of the kitchen will be enough to earn Kibum’s forgiveness.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re still here?”</p><p> </p><p>That’s unexpected. “Where else would I be?”</p><p> </p><p>Kibum’s eyes narrow and his gaze becomes sharp. “At home. What kind of question is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyung.” Taemin’s heart sinks. It’s clear enough that Kibum is not just angry, but furious. “I’m sorry. You can have breakfast, and I’ll clean everything up and-”</p><p> </p><p>“We agreed it wouldn’t become like this,” Kibum says, cutting him off. “I let you sleep over so that you don’t drive when you’re tired, but…” he trails off as Taemin tries to figure out what the hell he’s talking about “…today it’s breakfast and tomorrow it’ll be you spending the weekend over and before we know it, we’ll have gone way past casual and inevitably someone will get hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>There is nothing Taemin can say in response. He doesn’t know whether he heard Kibum right or whether Kibum has gone mad or he has gone mad or whether Kibum is breaking up with him-</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks for breakfast, but you really should go now. I’ve put your clothes out on the bed.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s so unfair, but Taemin can’t think of any way to defend himself. With tears clouding his vision and his heart racing, he dresses in the clothes Kibum laid out, grabs his keys from the key-holder by the door and leaves. Kibum doesn’t even bother to see him off.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Something is off. Taemin’s flat looks nothing like it should. He barely lives here anymore, but now he sees his clothes thrown over the couch and food on the kitchen counter. His reading glasses are on his coffee table, not the nighstand in Kibum’s bedroom where he does most of his reading these days. There are post-its and schedules stuck to his fridge which should have been tacked to Kibum’s schedule board instead. It feels like someone else is living here, but instead of just occupying his house, they’ve taken over as if they were him.</p><p> </p><p>His phone rings. It’s Euisoo-hyung, calling to say that he’ll be in the garage in ten minutes. Taemin robotically promises to be down in time.</p><p> </p><p>In his bedroom, Taemin finds more evidence of the intruder. His bed is a mess; the sheets are crumpled, the duvet is piled at the bottom of the bed and there is an indent on the pillow. His cupboards are full of clothes he remembers storing in Kibum’s flat.</p><p> </p><p>He’s late to see his manager, though only by five minutes or so. Taemin thinks that’s eminently forgivable considering everything he’s gone through today.</p><p> </p><p>“You look rough,” Euisoo says, peering at him. “Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Everything is most certainly not okay, but Taemin can’t explain why. Instead, he says “I have a headache,” and it’s a truthful answer because he’s got a dull throb building up at the back of his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get you some paracetamol.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin hums in agreement, already lost in thought as his mind bounces from the problem of Kibum to the problem of his strangely lived-in flat. He pays no attention to where the manager is driving until they come to a stop somewhere that is not SM.</p><p> </p><p>Only, he knows this place, it’s Kibum’s flat. The back door of the van slides open and Kibum climbs in. “You’re late,” he grumbles. “I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Blame this one,” Euisoo says, jerking his head towards Taemin. Kibum just huffs.</p><p> </p><p>The ride to SM is mostly quiet in the sense that there is no conversation, but it is far from a peaceful journey for Taemin. For one, there is no conversation to distract him from noticing that things are ever so subtly different, like the charm on Kibum’s phone and the brand of air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. The songs on Euisoo’s playlist are the same ones as always but played in a different order. He’s just pressed shuffle, Taemin tells himself, but that explanation doesn’t ease his sense of disquiet simply because it’s not something their manager is prone to doing.</p><p> </p><p>Things do not get better once he’s made his way to the practice room. Jonghyun’s hair is just a shade shorter than it should be and Jinki’s shoes have green, not orange, embellishments. Minho, thankfully, looks and acts the same. Taemin hangs on the fringes of their conversation as he stretches, not quite trusting himself, and he’s thankful when their trainer comes in to start the session.</p><p> </p><p>The familiar beats of their title track pump through the sound system and Taemin’s anxiety eases just a little bit. This much, at least, has not changed. He loses himself in dancing. Their trainer puts them through their paces again and again, righting one small move at a time and in the process, Taemin forgets about Kibum’s anger and his lived-in flat and the strangeness of his members and manager; everything fades away and all that is left is the way his body responds to the music.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get jjampong at Singgil,” Jinki says to Minho, who nods in agreement. “I’m starving.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin’s stomach growls. The jjampong at Singgil is spicy and flavourful; he’s not had breakfast and practice had run late into the afternoon before their trainer was satisfied that they knew the dance well enough to film the dance practice MV tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll break out,” Jonghyun whines.</p><p> </p><p>“You can have something else,” Minho suggests. “I’ve tried their grilled mackerel, it’s good. Or you could split the jjeongol with Kibum.”</p><p> </p><p>“Count me out, I’m going for a salad,” Kibum replies immediately, and though it’s obvious from their expressions that Jinki, Jonghyun and Minho – Taemin too – think that he doesn’t need to be dieting, they don’t contradict him. Over the course of their long relationships, they’ve learnt that this topic is not one that Kibum will entertain any discussion on.</p><p> </p><p>“I want a salad too,” Taemin says, seeing an opportunity to get Kibum alone. Minho laughs. Jinki and Jonghyun seem to find the situation funny too, and it’s only when he doesn’t laugh as well that they then look at him as if he’s sprouted a second head.</p><p> </p><p>“For real?” Jonghyun asks, and Taemin wonders whether he should be affronted that his members think that he’s incapable of eating a salad.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m watching what I eat until we get all of the filming done.”</p><p> </p><p>That sets Jonghyun off. “Did someone say-”</p><p> </p><p>“No one said anything, I have eyes and a mirror-”</p><p> </p><p>“If you need to diet, then we all do-”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care! You guys go and have jjampong, Kibum-hyung and I will have salad,” Taemin says, with as much authority as he can muster, as he pretends not to notice how stressed and suspicious Kibum looks.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Taemin’s not had many salads in his life, but even he can tell that the choices offered at SM’s cafeteria are both overpriced and uninspired. And if he can tell, so can Kibum, so there must be a reason why Kibum chose to eat here instead of one of the many, many cafes surrounding their company.</p><p> </p><p>The place is mostly empty. There are a couple of suited men in a corner, whose faces are vaguely recognisable, and a handful of younger boys who keep glancing at him and Kibum and who leave by the time the waiter brings their food to the table; Caesar for Kibum and Thai mango salad for Taemin. The mango is unripe and under-seasoned and bears little resemblance to the mango salad he had enjoyed in Thailand. Taemin munches on it disconsolately as he tries to figure out how to begin the conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” Kibum asks then. “I know you’re not here to eat terrible salad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you angry with me?” It’s a stupid question – anyone would be angry and rightfully so – but the way Kibum has been expressing his anger is uncharacteristic.</p><p> </p><p>Kibum’s lips flatten into a thin line, as it always does when he’s angry, but a moment later he deflates. “Look, I’m not angry, it’s just… we agreed to keep things casual. And if you don’t want that anymore, we can talk about it. I don’t appreciate being ambushed with breakfast, as if some grand romantic gesture will make me forget everything we discussed and just go along, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Taemin croaks out the most anodyne reply possible. His head is empty and his hands are starting to shake; something is terribly wrong and he doesn’t even know what went wrong, let alone how to fix it.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Taemin returns to his flat and as unsurprised as he is to find it just as lived-in as it was when he left this morning, he feels like his carefully built world is crumbling to pieces before his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>There’s soju in the fridge; he pops the cap and swigs it right from the bottle. The sting of alcohol helps clear his head, just a little, and he wanders around for a bit poking this and that until half the bottle is gone and the restorative effect has worn off.</p><p> </p><p>Yesterday, he was a man with a boyfriend who he lived with and with whom he had quarrelled and today, he’s apparently a man who has no boyfriend but is in a casual fling with a co-worker who doesn’t seem too keen to take things further; he has no idea how or why things have changed.</p><p> </p><p>It’s as if he has fallen into some alternate universe.</p><p> </p><p>Taemin brushes the thought aside as soon as it crosses his mind, but a moment later it surges to the forefront of his thoughts. Has he fallen into an alternate universe?</p><p> </p><p>It’s stupid.</p><p> </p><p>But it would explain why everything is just a little bit different from what he remembers.</p><p> </p><p>Or, Taemin tells himself, he just never noticed that his cereal had been moved or that Kibum had changed his phone accessory or that their manager had changed the line-up of his playlist and it’s only today that he cared enough to pay attention to these things; isn’t that what Kibum always complains about, that he’s too absent-minded to notice little things about the people around him? Or, Taemin tells himself, he’s had some sort of breakdown due to his argument with Kibum and he’s lost his grip on reality. He needs a psychiatrist, not a mad scientist.</p><p> </p><p>He’s thirsty and the bottle in his hand is empty. Taemin pulls another from the fridge, a fruit-flavoured one that he doesn’t remember purchasing, although he knows well-enough that alcohol has a dehydrating effect. He’s hungry too, but he doesn’t have an appetite, and so he wanders around the flat, sipping his soju as if he’s drinking milk and tears himself in two as he both tries to find things that are different and tries not to notice anything so as not to feed this ridiculous alternate universe theory.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, when Taemin grows tired of pacing in circles like a caged animal, he flips the TV on and settles on the couch. He goes through the channels until he finds a rerun of some music show, which is oddly comforting in its familiarity. He watches his juniors in the industry – few of whom he can name – dance and loses himself in cataloguing their moves and formations, comparing their execution to how he might do it and judging the finer nuances of their performances. Even as his eyes lose focus and he stops being able to tell the difference between one song and the next, he stays on the couch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alarm goes off.</p><p> </p><p>Taemin doesn’t feel rested at all, but at least his headache is gone. The sheets rustle, the alarm is silenced and Taemin is already drifting back to sleep when Kibum says “You’re still here?”</p><p> </p><p>The memory of their argument – the memory of his world being turned upside down – comes rushing back, chasing away the ghost of sleep and leaving Taemin wide awake. Wasn’t he at his own flat last night? What fresh hell is this? “Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Kibum swears, low and gruff. “God give me strength,” he says “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. Are you awake? Do you understand what I’m saying or are you just nodding to whatever-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m awake,” Taemin answers, sitting up.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Because it’s morning and you’re still here and not at all bothered that in about an hour the manager is going to expect to pick each of us up alone!”</p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing to do other than to go with the flow, so that’s what Taemin does. “I can be home in time, don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you waiting for? Go!”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Taemin takes a taxi back to his flat, which looks just as lived-in as it did yesterday, feeling more confused than ever. He checks his phone for the date, but it’s a futile exercise; he can’t remember the date of his argument with Kibum and he never bothered to check the date yesterday either, so when his phone tells him that it is 7am on the 2nd of May, it’s just information without context.</p><p> </p><p>His phone rings. Euisoo says “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” and Taemin says he’ll be down even though he knows he will be late. Kibum complains about having to wait when they pick him up, Euisoo blames it on him and they have a semi-quiet ride in the car with Kibum and Euisoo lightly bickering over the air-con settings.</p><p> </p><p>“What are we doing today?” Taemin asks.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got the concert merch meeting with the design team, that’s a group schedule, Kibum has a radio appearance at night, but apart from that you’re free.”</p><p> </p><p>Euisoo’s reply does not give Taemin answers, only more questions. If he is indeed stuck reliving the same day of waking up next to Kibum who is pretending – or not – that they’re not together, why would little details like this change? But if time is flowing correctly and a whole day has actually passed, how on earth did he wake up in Kibum’s house despite falling asleep on his own couch?</p><p> </p><p>“LEE TAEMIN!”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin turns to Euisoo, annoyed at having his thoughts derailed and at such volume too. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yah, you were the one spacing out,” Kibum says. “I would have poked you, but hyung is nicer than me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was asking, do you want me to book the practice room for you tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Usually, Taemin would say yes, but today he declines the offer.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t we already do towels?”</p><p> </p><p>“We do keychains all the time, what’s the harm in doing towels again?”</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun and Kibum are the ones prolonging the meeting, this much hasn’t changed at least. If Taemin has indeed fallen into an alternate universe – as impossible as that is – it seems that the one thing that remains constant is the work. He had been an active participant earlier, but he’s said everything he wants to say and now he’s content to allow the sounds of Jonghyun and Key’s back and forth wash over him like a song.</p><p> </p><p>“We already voted against it,” Jinki says.</p><p> </p><p>The creative director quickly backs him up. “Yes, and besides, we’ve already filled the required pricing slots, so we don’t strictly need a towel or anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun looks like he wants to argue, but Kibum claps his hands together and says “Well, that’s settled then. Shall we call it a day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, let’s,” Jinki agrees. “Wanna get lunch? Does anyone want to get jjampong at Singgil?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I do!” Minho agrees, at the same time Jonghyun whines “I’ll break out.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin’s barely processed the replay of yesterday’s conversation when Kibum says “Nah, I feel like having grilled meat today. Oh, Taemin-ah, do you want to come along?”</p><p> </p><p>He dumbly nods, wondering what the change in Kibum’s choice of food forebodes.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess grilled meat-” Jonghyun starts, before being sharply cut off by an elbow to the side.</p><p> </p><p>Minho, who supplied the elbow, quickly says “Nah, we agreed on noodles. You can get cold noodles hyung, that doesn’t aggravate your allergies.”</p><p> </p><p>Does Minho know? As far as Taemin knows, his relationship with Kibum is a secret known only to them and Comme des and Garcons, but he can’t think of any other explanation for Minho’s strange behaviour. Did Kibum break their pact and tell him? As far as Taemin knows, Kibum is a secret-keeper of the highest confidence; perhaps it was Minho who guessed and confronted Kibum about it, and Kibum being his best friend admitted to it. Either way, Taemin finds, he doesn’t mind. Kibum is his, and he is Kibum’s.</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The grilled meat place that Kibum takes him to is some fancy-pants place in Itaewon that doesn’t even have grills on the tables; instead, the meat is grilled in the kitchen and served to them on heated stone plates. It’s far too posh for this sort of food, but it is private.</p><p> </p><p>Today, his appetite is a little better. He eats a few slices of grilled tenderloin and some grilled kimchi which isn’t as charred as he would have liked, generally enjoying the meal, until Kibum says “We need to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yah, don’t look so sad.” Kibum’s voice is petulant, playful. It’s such a difference from the cold front he presented yesterday. “You make me feel bad, am I so mean that you’re scared to talk to me?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s as if things have gone back to normal, but as much as Taemin wishes he could be relieved at the dissipation of Kibum’s anger, the strangeness of his day has him unsettled anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, I was just going to say that we have to be more careful. I know you didn’t intend to oversleep, and it’s partly my fault as well that I didn’t notice you hadn’t left. We got away with it this time, but what if someone had seen you leaving my house this morning? What if manager-hyung dropped by early for whatever reason?”</p><p> </p><p>“I get it,” Taemin replies. The concerns Kibum’s raised are precisely why, when he had all but moved in to Kibum’s flat, they had informed their managers that they would be carpooling to work for the foreseeable future. It had been clear enough from their reactions that they knew exactly why such an arrangement had been made, but none had cared to pry further; the media wouldn’t out them and one or two sasaeng fans they have now only follow them to the airport and schedules. “I’ll be more careful next time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe next time I’ll drop by your place,” Kibum replies. “It’s been a while since I did that.”</p><p> </p><p>It has indeed, but Taemin guesses that Kibum means it in an entirely different way than he hears it.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall we get another serving of meat? Is there a particular cut you want?” The beef is of the highest quality, and the cook has grilled it to perfection, but the little appetite that Taemin had has evaporated – and he doesn’t even know why. Kibum looks surprised when he turns down the offer. “Hey, are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a headache,” Taemin says; it’s a convenient excuse, and one that’s not entirely untrue.</p><p> </p><p>Kibum tsks sympathetically. “Yeah, you’ve been looking peaky all day. Why didn’t you say anything?” He rummages through his bag and pulls out a pouch of herbal medicine, which he slides over to Taemin. “This isn’t specifically for headaches, but I find that it relieves it a bit. You can have it.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It’s only when Taemin gets back to his flat – in a taxi Kibum had called for him – that he understands the hollowness he’s feeling.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even sleep over at Kibum’s place anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of the herbal remedy Kibum had given him, Taemin pops an ibuprofen and a Xanaz for good measure and gladly succumbs to the nothingness of sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wakefulness comes slowly, like a great whale slowly rising from the depths of the sea and not quite breaking the surface. Taemin allows his thoughts to run on that tangent and slips into his favourite fantasy of being a whale in an endless ocean. The heavy duvet is a comfortable weight pressing down on him and the bed is both soft and warm-</p><p> </p><p>-but it is not his bed.</p><p> </p><p>Taemin snaps awake.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes can’t make out anything in the darkness of the room, which is another indicator that he is in some strange place; in both Kibum’s apartment and his, there is always a little light leaking in from under and around the curtains. He sits up, reaching out blindly for his phone, a light switch, literally anything that can help him see, and his hand smacks against something; a solid something in the same bed covered in the same duvet that is over him too.</p><p> </p><p>The sheets and duvet rustle with movement.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?”</p><p> </p><p>A wave of relief washes over Taemin. That voice, gravelly and annoyed, belongs to Kibum.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he says, with a mouth gone dry in fright “I just… where are we?”</p><p> </p><p>The bedding rustles even more; Kibum must be rolling over and Taemin can just imagine the angry squint he must be making. “It’s amazing you’re still alive,” Kibum grouses. “We’re in Canada, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>One day he falls asleep on his couch and wakes up in Kibum’s house, and now he falls asleep in his own bed and wakes up in Canada? Taemin would cry if he has the strength to.</p><p> </p><p>When he doesn’t reply, Kibum says “Oh my God, you don’t remember. Yah, we’re in Toronto, we have a concert tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Of course they have a concert, why else would they be in Canada?</p><p> </p><p>A small light fills the room; Kibum’s gotten his phone. The room is definitely a hotel room. There’s a small coffee table in a corner, where Taemin spots his own phone and two empty wine glasses. There’s a suitcase at the foot of the bed, spilling clothes, which definitely belongs to Kibum.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost four, you should go.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s visceral, the way he hates the sound of Kibum telling him to leave.</p><p> </p><p>“Go?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re hopeless,” Kibum complains. “Am I even talking to a person who’s awake, or are you just saying nonsense in your sleep? You need to get back to your own room before the managers and stylists wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>This isn’t entirely new to Taemin. Whenever they go overseas they have to keep up the pretense of not being together, and that means getting and staying in separate rooms and sneaking around to meet each other in the dead of night when the only people awake are the zombie-like night staff of the hotel. The only problem with it now is that he has no idea where he is, no memory of getting here and no concept of the layout of the hotel to even enable him to find his own room.</p><p> </p><p>“Just ten minutes more,” he pleads, wanting to stay where he is, with Kibum. He knows he’s won when Kibum flicks the shell of his ear. “Ow! That’s abuse, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Kibum laughs, though it’s really more of a cackle than anything else. “You hit me first.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin waits until Kibum settles back into bed, and then he lies down too, shuffling backwards until his back meets the solid wall of Kibum’s side. He likes how he’s one of the few people who knows how muscular Kibum actually is under all of the layers he wears.</p><p> </p><p>Unexpectedly, Kibum rolls onto his side, throws an arm over Taemin and pulls him into his chest, and Taemin is so happy he could cry. He’s missed being held like this so badly, and even before all of this craziness it was a rare treat because Kibum always complains how his arm gets numb in this position. Taemin burrows into Kibum’s embrace, where, for the first time in days, he finally feels like there is solid ground under his feet.</p><p> </p><p>Cherish it, he tells himself.</p><p> </p><p>XXXXX</p><p> </p><p>hi all! i'm back with two new chapters for you XD comments are welcome and much loved, but more than anything i hope you enjoy the story and taemin's imminent comeback. </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oh no, I fell asleep! </p><p> </p><p>That is Taemin’s first thought when he wakes up-</p><p> </p><p>-in a hotel room that he does not remember.</p><p> </p><p>Although it’s entirely possible that he found his way back to his hotel room and then promptly forgot about it, Taemin is willing to bet that he’s no longer in Canada. The décor of the room feels somewhat different from the one he shared with Kibum, though he can’t quite put his finger on the reason why. It’s as if the air itself has changed.</p><p> </p><p>Taemin pulls himself out of bed and gropes his way through the dimly lit room towards the window and pulls the curtains back to reveal the unmistakeable skyline of Osaka.</p><p> </p><p>Bitterly, Taemin thinks that he should have listened to Kibum and tried to find his way back to his own room; at least then he’d still be in a universe where Kibum is his boyfriend and they are on good terms. Then he tugs at his hair in frustration, because alternate universes are not a thing and what he really needs is to see a doctor.</p><p> </p><p>A buzzing sound interrupts his self-flagellation. Someone’s calling him; the contact flashing on the screen is Jonghyun. It’s out of character for Jonghyun to be calling him instead of texting, especially in the morning, so Taemin immediately answers even though he’s not up for conversation yet. “Hyung?”</p><p> </p><p>“We were supposed to go swimming, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin most certainly does not remember, and he’s in no mood for a swim either. “Hyung…”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, you’re supposed to be motivating me! What is this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyyyuuuunnggg,” Taemin whines, throwing himself backwards into bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh fine, we’ll cancel the swim. Honestly, what was I thinking? I should have asked Minho. But I’m awake already, so let’s get breakfast at least?”</p><p> </p><p>That, Taemin can do. He can figure out why they’re in Japan and Jonghyun – like Kibum – is always worth following when he’s looking for food; he knows the best places and – unlike Kibum – he always pays. “Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun takes him to a café that does soufflé pancakes.</p><p> </p><p>The choco-caramel pancakes Taemin orders arrive in a high stack, coated with chococate powder and generously drizzled with caramel, looking eminently Instagrammable. Taemin’s heart splinters just a little more. The weekend before their argument – before all of this started – Kibum had been experimenting with different recipes for soufflé pancakes. They had gone to the Galaxy Mart around the corner from Kibum’s flat and Taemin had insisted on getting rainbow sprinkles to top the pancakes and Kibum had teased him about it; Kibum made pancakes for breakfast, lunch and tea all in a row and Taemin had enjoyed being his assistant chef cum taste-tester even though he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. More than the pancakes itself, Taemin loved how excited Kibum had been with his newest project. Whenever Kibum is excited, his eyes light up and he laughs easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Taemin-ah, where have you floated off to?” Jonghyun says it so melodiously that Taemin is impressed, not annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>“Nowhere, I was just thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“About?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin isn’t ready to be honest about his health concerns, so he substitutes it with a situation that’s as analogous as he can come up with spontaneously. “Do you sometimes miss the days when we just debuted?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes,” Jonghyun quickly agrees. He keeps his eyes on his pancakes, as though they’re having a casual conversation, and Taemin appreciates how Jonghyun is always so considerate and so emotionally attuned to his needs to know when Taemin needs such consideration. “Are you missing it now?”</p><p> </p><p>Is he? Taemin drags a forkful of pancake through caramel, buying time for him to think. He doesn’t miss being 15, in the throes of puberty and trying desperately to prove that he’s capable of doing everything – singing, dancing, variety – just as well as his hyungs.</p><p> </p><p>But there is something less tangible about that time that he misses. “Don’t you feel… sometimes, I guess, that you don’t know what you’re doing anymore? I never felt that way back then.”</p><p> </p><p>“At work?” Jonghyun asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Like, when we were younger, they’d just give us a concept and say ‘make it yours’ and we would. And it worked. We never put a foot wrong between Replay and Sherlock. Even Dream Girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t say we’ve made any missteps since then either.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, that’s not… we pick concepts now, but honestly, I have no real idea whether a particular concept is going to work or not. It’s like I’m making blind guesses about things which have billions of won riding on them, and I know now that no one else has any more of a clue either, but…” Taemin runs out of words then, not knowing how to describe why things are different.</p><p> </p><p>“But it feels like you’re swimming in the ocean and you’re barely keeping your head above water, whereas before this you didn’t feel that way?”</p><p> </p><p>Brilliant Jonghyun. Taemin sends him a grateful smile; he always finds the correct words for the things Taemin wants to talk about. When he was younger he was so obsessed with proving that he was just as good as any of them, but as he’s grown he’s come to appreciate how they’re strong and clever in ways he’s not without being jealous.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s insecurity,” Jonghyun explains. “It’s not the decisions that bother you, it’s that you don’t feel confident that you’ll be able to deal with the consequences of those decisions.”</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun is right. “Do you ever feel that way?” Though Jonghyun thinks about things in much more depth than Taemin, he and Kibum are far more confident in their views and wants at meetings than the other members.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Jonghyun replies. “It was a lot worse for me when I was younger, so you just have to push through the-” Something changes in Jonghyun’s face and Taemin glances over his shoulder, thinking that Jonghyun saw something that surprised him. “No, that’s bull. Forget what I said. Taemin-ah, if you feel insecure, then that’s how you feel. Don’t force yourself to pretend that everything is okay. Rely on others, ask for advice, get whatever help you need. If we bring this back to the ocean metaphor, it’s not a sign of a weakness to cling to a lifebuoy if you’re tired of swimming.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jinie-hyung is apoplectic when they come back at noon, stuffed full of good food and in good spirits. They’re late, apparently, to get to the Kyocera Dome, and Jonghyun apologises for forgetting the schedule. Taemin apologises too, though he has no idea what the schedule is.</p><p> </p><p>It’s an SMTown concert. That’s both a relief and an annoyance; a relief because he’s not in any condition to perform a whole concert, but an annoyance because he’s in no mood to interact with all of his colleagues and to share the limited backstage space with the huge menagerie of SM idols and their battalions of stylists, managers and crew.</p><p> </p><p>On the drive to the supposedly private entry of the stadium, Taemin spots fans lined up, some with cameras and some with letters and gift bags – the vast majority of whom are wearing black t-shirts with EXO’s logo – and wonders whether there is a universe out there were SHINee is more popular than EXO.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks to their seniority, SHINee has been given a decently-sized dressing room. Jinki and Kibum are there; the former sleeping stretched out on the couch and the latter painting his nails black and yellow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yah,” Kibum says when they enter “where on earth did you two run off to?”</p><p> </p><p>Before Taemin can say anything, Jonghyun answers, with glee, “Shiawase no Pancake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, you traitor,” Kibum exclaims, exaggerated, and Taemin laughs. This, at least, hasn’t changed. “You keep saying they have the best pancakes and that we must go, then you take this philistine instead.”</p><p> </p><p>“He was awake, you weren’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin leaves them to their friendly bickering and looks around the dressing room, and he finds a setlist on the make-up table. They’re performing Sherlock, View and Fire; thankfully, these are all performances he doesn’t need to rehearse. “This isn’t too bad,” he muses. “But why aren’t we performing anything newer, or Japanese?”</p><p> </p><p>“This again,” Kibum says. “We’ve had this argument already and anyway, what’s the point of bringing it up now? It’s too late to change the setlist.”</p><p> </p><p>“Guys, don’t fight,” Jinki mumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Fight?” Kyung Hee noona’s voice joins the mix; Taemin turns to the door to find her there together with their usual team of stylists. “What’s this?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not fighting,” Jonghyun replies. “Is it time already? We’re not going on stage until much later.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where did Minho run off to?" The question comes from Jung Hee, Minho's stylist. She's sporting a head of red hair, which is a departure from her usual black bob; Taemin's heart beats uneasily at this sudden change, so he averts his eyes and tries not to think about it.</p><p> </p><p>"Probably with Shidae-noonas," Jinki answers.</p><p> </p><p>Taemin follows the beckoning of his own stylist to sit in the make-up chair. Around him, the sound of hairdryers, make-up kits and idle chat fill the air, comforting in their familiarity. Taemin finds himself able to relax a little, so he rolls his stiff shoulders and closes his eyes; he's not going to fall asleep when his stylist is, as always, yanking his hair far too harshly for comfort or blending make-up on his face as if he's a dirty table that needs to be vigorously dusted.</p><p> </p><p>"You're done," she proclaims, and Kibum immediately makes a low sound of disapproval. "Ugh, I'm so jealous," he complains, which prompts Jinki to respond with "You're jealous? You barely take ten minutes more than him, I'm the one who should be complaining about the layers and layers it takes to cover up-"</p><p> </p><p>Taemin heads for the couch and sits next to Minho's grumpy stylist.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you're staying here?" Jonghyun asks.</p><p> </p><p>Where else would he go, Taemin wonders. Does Jonghyun expect him to go and hunt Minho down?</p><p> </p><p>"Seniors don't go looking for juniors," Kibum remarks, seemingly out of nowhere. "Right, Taemin?"</p><p> </p><p>"I guess?"</p><p> </p><p>Was Jonghyun referring to Jongin then? He must be here, EXO is on the setlist. Taemin has been so pre-occupied with Kibum that he hasn't given any thought to the other people in his life, like Jongin and Taesun and his parents.</p><p> </p><p>"What are we doing for dinner?" he asks instead.</p><p> </p><p>Jinki replies. "Yunho's rented the penthouse suite for an afterparty, most people will be going there I guess."</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun makes as much of a sound of disgust as he can with his stylist applying lipgloss on him. "The Hyatt's food is always this close to stale, though. Unless he's planning to order pizzas or something."</p><p> </p><p>"People don't go to afterparties for fine dining," Kibum replies, and privately, Taemin agrees.</p><p> </p><p>"Who's not going?" Jonghyun asks.</p><p> </p><p>Jinki shrugs. "I don't know, me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Why bother answering then? Kibum-ah, are you going? And how did I not hear about this party?"</p><p> </p><p>Kibum tips his head back to allow his stylist to powder his neck. "You kidnapped that kid and ran away? The news was going around as we were departing from the hotel. And of course I’m going. Do you think I have it in me to say no to free booze?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin sighs aloud. There go his hopes of getting Kibum alone after the concert.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, what do you have to be sighing about?” Kibum asks.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Taemin replies, but by then everyone’s attention has turned to the door, which creaks noisily as it’s pushed open. Minho comes in, leading a troop of girls who Taemin recognises as their juniors, Red Velvet. Their hair is dyed in wild shades and he can’t place whether this is something else that’s odd or whether it’s just a part of their promotions. The room, which is already a bit small for Taemin’s tastes, now feels claustrophobic.</p><p> </p><p>“Oppa, there you are!” Seulgi says; Taemin only picks up that she’s talking to him when she squeezes past the stylists to sit next to him and loop their arms together. “Why didn’t you come to find me?”</p><p> </p><p>Why would he, Taemin wonders. Had he promised to show them a particular dance move or was it a social thing, encouragement or congratulations on a new album or achievement? Irene and Wendy sit on the couch too, crowding them, and Seulgi shifts closer to him; so close that they’re practically glued together.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, I forgot.”</p><p> </p><p>She huffs, but not angrily. “It’s okay, I came to find you. I’ll always come.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s an unusually flirtatious statement. Taemin thinks she’s overstepping a little when she leans in as if to kiss him, and then he’s throwing himself back so quickly that he nearly pulls a muscle.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” he cries out, louder than is polite but surely he can’t be blamed for that? He glances around the room and finds every single person studiously avoiding them, as if they’re witnessing a private moment.</p><p> </p><p>Dread creeps over Taemin. He turns back to Seulgi, who is angry now. She’s got her arms crossed and her eyes are wet, and she’s not looking at him either. “You never change,” she hisses. “I don’t know why I try so hard when you don’t care.”</p><p> </p><p>“Change?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re in a closed room. The only people in here are your members and mine, and they all know we’re dating. You don’t have to act like I’m a leper even in here.”</p><p> </p><p>The only word Taemin hears is ‘dating’. He looks to Kibum again, anxious, but Kibum is feigning interest in an eyeshadow palette. No one has contradicted Seulgi; no one even seems surprised by her statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Aigoo…” Minho squishes himself into the already overloaded couch. “Don’t fight now, you’ll have a miserable time on stage. Seulgi-yah, he’s always like this, but you guys can have a good time at the afterparty, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” she replies. “I’m clearly not wanted here, so I’ll leave. Thank you, sunbaenim, for apologising even when you have nothing to apologise for,” she says to Minho.</p><p> </p><p>The girls leave with her, and Yeri takes the time to shoot him a baleful glare before she closes the door behind her. Taemin feels like a worm in the sun.</p><p> </p><p>“Yah, you should lighten up a little. I know you’re being careful but you don’t have to push her away-”</p><p> </p><p>“No, he has every right to,” Jonghyun interjects, on his behalf. “Just because they’re dating, does it mean that they own each other? If he doesn’t want to be touched, she should respect it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on,” Kibum says. “She wasn’t groping him, she just went for a kiss. If anyone I was dating recoiled from me like that, it would be over in a heartbeat… Taemin-ah, you need to buy her something expensive.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s so casual, the way Kibum says it, as if the idea of Taemin dating someone else means nothing at all to him. What happened to them?</p><p> </p><p>A wave of nausea washes over him.</p><p> </p><p>He pushes past the stylists, ignoring Jinki’s calls for him to stay and Jonghyun and Kibum’s continued bickering. Luckily, the layout of the Kyocera Dome is not new to him; he manages to find the nearest bathroom and make it into a stall just in time for his stomach to empty itself in a violent rush of bile and half-digested brunch. He heaves and heaves until his shoulders and back ache and sweat drips down his forehead and still his stomach roils.</p><p> </p><p>“Sunbae, are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t recognise the voice asking. “Get my manager,” he chokes out. He feels like he’s dying.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Jin raps on the door of his stall, the worst of it is over. Taemin sits on the floor and rests his head on the cool cement of the wall, and tries not to breathe too much or too quickly or too heavily in case his stomach is triggered again. He slides the lock open with his foot – flexibility being one of the perks of being a dancer – and Jin comes in. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I need to go to the hospital,” Taemin tells him. “I think I’m having a stroke.”</p><p> </p><p>From the way Jin’s expression morphs from disbelief to horror, and the way the blood drains from his face, Taemin guesses that he wasn’t expecting a problem on this scale when he was summoned here by Taemin’s junior. “Why do you think that?”</p><p> </p><p>“My mind isn’t right,” Taemin says, before realising how vague that description is. Why can’t Jin take him at his word? “It’s like… my brain is swiss cheese, there are so many holes in it. I can’t remember coming to Japan, I don’t know what concert this is or what year or day it is, apparently I’m dating Seulgi but I barely even recognise her face-”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay, calm down-”</p><p> </p><p>“How can I calm down?! I’m dying! I’m turning into a vegetable and no one seems to notice!”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, okay.” Jin holds his hand up, putting a stop to Taemin’s rant. “We’ll get you to a hospital, all you have to do is not panic.” He makes a call to someone – Taemin doesn’t know who – and helps Taemin to his feet. “Steady, can you walk to the car?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” His legs are weak, but his body is fine; it’s his brain that’s failing him.</p><p> </p><p>Outside the bathroom, an audience has gathered, of managers and juniors but not one person from his own treacherous group. Not his boyfriend who it appears is no longer his boyfriend. The thought makes Taemin’s legs weaken and he sways in Jin’s grasp, and Jin steadies him with an arm around his waist. “Just a little more, Taemin-ah. You can do it.”</p><p> </p><p>They go down to the basement. A car is waiting just outside the lifts – a nondescript silver Honda instead of the sleek black MPVs they use – and in the driver’s seat is Euisoo. Jin puts him in the passenger seat and tells Euisoo to take care of the rest of the group, and then they’re off to the hospital. It is a tense ride, with Jin driving over the speed limit and Taemin trying not to panic; his heart is racing and his stomach is spasming despite being empty, and despite that all he can think of is Kibum’s expression, the laughter in his voice as he told Taemin to buy Seulgi something expensive.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>“How long has this been going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin doesn’t know how to answer that question. To him, it’s only been a few days since that night that he argued with Kibum, but time seems to have skipped back and forth since then. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ve lost sense of time.”</p><p> </p><p>The doctor’s mouth thins. Not a good sign then. “Can you tell me what your memory is like?”</p><p> </p><p>So Taemin does; he explains how he’s lost all memory of where he is and how he gets there and everything that happens around brief periods of consciousness, of how the things he does remember are like islands in a vast ocean of things he cannot remember, and he watches as Jin’s face pales even more until the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack himself.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor sends him for a battery of tests; MRIs and x-rays and brain-wave measurements; Jin dutifully follows him to each one as though he’s Taemin’s shadow, until at long last all of the tests are done and they’re sitting in the lobby waiting for the results to be sent to the doctor so that he can advise them. Outside, the sky is dark; the concert must be well underway now, or perhaps even close to its end.</p><p> </p><p>He wonders what will happen to him. If he has some sort of brain wasting disease, and it’s so bad that he’s forgotten more than he remembers, then it’s unlikely he’ll be able to work much longer. He’ll probably need to stay in some care home, or else he’d be a terrible burden to his family.</p><p> </p><p>He’s expecting the worst when the doctor calls them back in. What he doesn’t expect is for the doctor to say “Well, the tests all came back negative for any physical ailment. Apart from a low body fat percentage and slight dehydration, you’re in good health.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not lying,” Taemin protests, frustrated.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think you are,” the doctor replies. “The problem appears to be psychological, not physiological. There are many reasons why people forget, or block, certain memories. Trauma, stress, depression… that’s not my area of expertise, so my recommendation is that you stop working for the moment and consult a psychiatrist.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not crazy,” Taemin says, even though he knows that people with mental health issues aren’t actually crazy and that if Jonghyun heard him, he’d be disappointed. “Nothing traumatic happened to me.”</p><p> </p><p>After leaving the hospital, Jin let him know that Lee Soo Man had flown out to Japan the moment he’d heard about Taemin going to the hospital. He’s at the hotel now, waiting to see them. His concern is worrying; Taemin feels like a prize racehorse that’s on the verge of being shot.</p><p> </p><p>Jin is surprisingly magnanimous about it. “Maybe your mind is blocking the traumatic event, that’s why you think nothing has happened. Perhaps it’s so tied to your daily life that you forget more memories than you remember. That’s why you need to see a psychiatrist, to go through what you’ve forgotten to find what’s common to those memories.”</p><p> </p><p>The common thing, as far as Taemin can tell, must be Kibum. Kibum is such a large part of his life that if his mind were trying to block memories of him and things that are affected by him, it would end up looking like the post-apocalyptic hellscape that it currently is. But if that were true, Taemin thinks, it’s not something he can easily share with a company-mandated psychologist.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re treding,” Jin says then, breaking his line of thought. “The members explained your absence by saying that you have a stomach bug, so fans are trending tags like get well soon and whatnot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Should I post something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not now. Let the night pass, tomorrow you can post an apology and say you’ve recovered.”</p><p> </p><p>The Hyatt looms in the foreground.</p><p> </p><p>“Am I really dating Seulgi?”</p><p> </p><p>That question makes Jin smile. “Yes, why do you sound so upset about it? You’re the one who asked her out… I swear, you didn’t stop smiling for a whole week after she said yes.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>On the 2nd floor of the hotel is the hotel’s most expensive suite; it takes up the entire left wing and can only be accessed with a special fob. That is Lee Soo Man’s room for the night, and that is where Jin takes Taemin.</p><p> </p><p>Soo Man throws his arms open in greeting. “Taemin-ah, are you alright? The moment your manager told me you asked for the hospital I told myself that there must be a serious reason for it. I know you, you’re the sort who would dance even with a broken leg, so tell me, what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s losing his memories. Couldn’t even remember where he was, couldn’t remember the songs and dances they were supposed to do, he couldn’t even keep his food down,” Jin says, coolly lying on his behalf. “I thought he was having a stroke, so I’m the one who decided to take him to the hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the right decision,” Soo Man says. “These things need immediate treatment. But you’re back so soon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tests were inconclusive,” Jin lies again. “The doctor said he’s probably not in any danger, but he’ll need to see specialists to figure out what’s going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you worry, Taemin-ah, we’ll get you the best treatment money can buy, even if I have to pay for it myself.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a half-truth, as most things are with Soo Man. As long as he’s still useful, they’ll spare no expense keeping him in prime condition; the moment he becomes a liability, they’ll cut him off like a rotting limb from a healthy plant. Nonetheless, half a mercy is better than none.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Soo Man waves it off. “Have you eaten? You must be tired. Why don’t you go and rest? Order some room service, whatever you want.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin gratefully grasps this excuse to take his leave. Jin walks him back to his room – he doesn’t remember the number – and waits with him until the Italian set meal he ordered gets there.</p><p> </p><p>“Did the members ask about me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Jin replies “But Euisoo told them it was a stomach thing. If you want to tell them the truth, you can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where are they?” is what Taemin asks, but what he means is ‘why haven’t they come to see me?’</p><p> </p><p>Jin only answers the question he hears. “Minho and Kibum are at the afterparty, Jinki’s gone out by himself and Jonghyun is at Kichisen with Taeyeon, Junmyeon and some others.”</p><p> </p><p>As soon as Jin leaves, Taemin abandons his meal to root through his suitcase. In his shaving kit, he finds his emergency stash of Xanax and pops one, chases it down with Coke from the mini fridge and chucks the rest of his uneaten meal in the bathroom where he can’t smell it.</p><p> </p><p>As artificial sleep makes his eyelids heavy, he checks his phone.</p><p> </p><p>There are no messages from Kibum.</p><p> </p><p>XXXXX</p><p> </p><p>hiya! this update took a while, but to compensate it's a bit longer. enjoy! </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s lying down-</p><p> </p><p>-on someone’s lap-</p><p> </p><p>-in a car that’s moving.</p><p> </p><p>Panicked, Taemin gasps.</p><p> </p><p>A hand settles on his shoulder. “We’re not there yet, you can sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>And all of Taemin’s fear ebbs away, because that voice and that hand and that lap he’s lying on belongs to Jongin. He pushes himself up anyway, wanting to see, and finds himself looking upon the concerned face of his best friend. Jongin’s not wearing any make-up – not that he ever has acne to cover up, unlike Taemin – and his hair is dyed honey-gold. It must be comeback season for EXO, which, as far as Taemin knows, hasn’t overlapped with SHINee’s in ages. He has no idea how to gauge how much time has passed since his last memory.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p> </p><p>Jongin glances out of the window. “Back in Gangnam. But we haven’t passed the company.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm.” In his reply, Taemin recognises the treacle-like daze of tipsiness. He must have been drinking.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re staying over tonight?” If they’re headed past the company, they must be headed towards his flat.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve asked me that a million times already,” Jongin replies. “Yes, I am, even though I have a schedule in the morning and my members will make fun of me all day when manager-hyung picks me up from your place. And don’t say sorry,” Jongin quickly adds. “You’ve said that a million times too. You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”</p><p> </p><p>After all of the turmoil with Kibum, it feels good to be so easily known. “My heart hurts, Jongin-ah,” Taemin says, using his apparent drunkenness as an excuse to unburden himself.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Jongin replies, ever so gently.</p><p> </p><p>So this universe’s Taemin is suffering too, Taemin thinks. He leans against Jongin’s shoulder and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Jongin’s cologne. Jongin shifts, easing an arm around him, and Taemin sinks further into his embrace.</p><p> </p><p>“The taxi ahjussi is looking at us weirdly,” Jongin murmurs into his ear.</p><p> </p><p>It’s funny, but Taemin can’t find it in him to laugh.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Taemin wakes up in his bed in his flat – alone – and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.</p><p> </p><p>His phone tells him that it is 10am on the 15th of May. He can’t really put a finger on when he had last seen Jongin, but if SHINee were preparing for a comeback on the 2nd of May, then they must still be in their comeback period and EXO wouldn’t be having their comeback too, which means that Jongin shouldn’t have dyed hair. Taemin is quite certain now that he’s falling into parallel universes because there’s no way any disease could make him jump back and forth in time.</p><p> </p><p>He texts Euisoo. “What’s my schedule for the day?”</p><p> </p><p>Euisoo answers immediately. “Wardrobe at 2pm. I’ll pick you up at 1.30.”</p><p> </p><p>So he has the morning off.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls his curtains open, allowing the summer sunlight to fill his room and warm his skin, and appreciates the cityscape for a while. The sky is clear of fine dust – a rare happening – and sunlight gleams off blue waters of the Han River, like a siren tempting him into unknown depths.</p><p> </p><p>The thought of sirens reminds him of Kibum, and he pulls up their KKT chats to try and understand what sort of relationship they have now. The messages are mostly work-related, with a few memes and random conversations about coffee and Day6 and traffic here and there. Taemin scrolls up for a bit, even as he asks himself what he's hoping to find; they've never been the sort to exchange romantic texts, and that was by mutual agreement. It's much safer to keep these potentially career-destroying conversations face-to-face.</p><p> </p><p>And that's the answer, isn't it? He needs to speak to Kibum in person.</p><p> </p><p>Right away, he decides not to try to find Kibum; it’s hardly ever turned out well so far – apart from the time they were together in Canada – and he’s going to see him at the fitting anyway. Instead, it's time he paid a little attention to the other people in his life. There’s Jongin, who is usually busy, or Moonkyu, who is almost always free to meet, but he doesn’t know what's happened between his last memory and today. If he meets them, they’ll know right away that something is off.</p><p> </p><p>That leaves only one other option.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Aigoo, Taemin-ah, you’re so thin!”</p><p> </p><p>His mother fusses over him, squeezing his waist and petting his bleached hair, as he tries to hand her the basket of fruits he’d bought on the way over.</p><p> </p><p>“You said you were dieting for the comeback, but isn’t this too much?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not dieting anymore,” he says, not knowing how true that statement is. “It’s just work now. How is everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your appa is out with his fishing buddies, they’re in Jeju,” she says, beckoning him towards the kitchen. Taemin puts the fruits on the dining table. “I sent you a photo when I dropped him off at the airport, remember? And Taesun is doing well, he and Minah dropped by last weekend to help me make some kimchi. I packed some for you, you can take it later.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a relief to know that his family is fine.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask something about our family, like extended family?”</p><p> </p><p>His mother, who is rooting through the fridge, glances at him with her eyebrows raised. “Sure, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do we have a history of dementia or memory loss? Or memory problems in general?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm…” his mother pulls a heavy crockpot out of the fridge and puts it into the microwave; Taemin knows she’s thinking. “Well, not on my side as far as I know. Your grandaunt had dementia, but she’s not a blood relation to us. You’ll have to ask your father about his side of the family.”</p><p> </p><p>Whatever is in the microwave smells good. Taemin’s stomach rumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you ask?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin shrugs, downplaying the importance of the question. “It’s just something that came up at work.”</p><p> </p><p>The microwave dings. Taemin’s mother slips oven gloves on and extracts the pot, which now smells strongly of kimchi stew. Taemin’s stomach rumbles again; no one makes kimchi stew like his mother can and Taemin can’t remember the last time he had a meal that he enjoyed. A cloud of steam escapes when she lifts the lid. She fills a bowl with stew, with bits of pork shoulder and silken tofu and rough-cut chunks of kimchi, until it threatens to overflow.</p><p> </p><p>“Your father and I are alright, at least,” she says, setting the bowl down in front of him. “If anything happens to us, you can start worrying then. Until then, I think you have enough stress already.”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin hasn’t the heart to tell his mother that he’s asking for himself.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>There are too many people – managers, stylists and assistant stylists, interns and various hangers-on that always find their way into schedules such as this – for Taemin to have a private conversation with Kibum. He tries to wave Kibum over, to try and get him alone somehow, but Kibum is so deep in conversation with their creative director that he just waves back at Taemin and stays right where he is.</p><p> </p><p>Something of his displeasure must have shown in his face, because Jonghyun comes over instead. "What's the matter with you," he asks, and before Taemin can answer – he’s a little too distracted by the electric blue highlights in Jonghyun's black hair – he says "And don't say nothing, I know you too well to buy that."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know what my life is anymore," Taemin says, quite truthfully.</p><p> </p><p>"One of those days, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>You have no idea, Taemin thinks, but before either of them can continue their conversation, Jonghyun is whisked away by his stylist, and all he can manage is a sympathetic pat on Taemin’s shoulder. Taemin doesn’t blame him or his stylist; his outfits always require the most alteration because of the extremes of his physique; his broad shoulders and chest and his narrow waist, and his short legs and muscular thighs.</p><p> </p><p>In a pattern that is slowly becoming familiar, Taemin falls into the work easily enough. No matter what else changes, the work never does, and though Taemin has been dissatisfied before about the growing monotony of his professional life, now he's grateful for it.</p><p> </p><p>He plays an obedient mannequin for stylists who pin his hems and collars back, who tuck in his waist and shorten his sleeves, and as he begs them to leave a little more room around his thighs he can hear Kibum grumbling loudly about some fabric, which apparently will discolour when sweated on. He can hear Minho laughing somewhere on his left for some reason he's missed, and after a while Jinki joins in too. He poses for the stylists as they photograph him in this and that, and when all of that is said and done, there’s embellishments and accessories to sort out as well.</p><p> </p><p>He's done at around the same time as Minho. He's putting his shoes back on when Minho flops down next to him, stretching his long legs as if he’s trying to make Taemin envious. “Hey, we’re all going out for dinner later. You don’t have plans, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Taemin hasn’t the slightest idea whether he has plans or not.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, even if you do, you should drop by at least for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Taemin guesses that it should be easier to get Kibum alone at dinner – or after – than it is now.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>He guessed wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner isn’t just them, it’s the entire cohort of stylists and creatives, and someone – Minho probably, he’s insufferably thoughtful like that – has rented a private room for the night, which of course means that all of the same people are crammed into an even smaller space than they were at the company.</p><p> </p><p>And to make matters worse, Kibum isn’t even here.</p><p> </p><p>The table is laden with platters of hwe and bubbling stone bowls of maeuntang, pickled root vegetables and mul kimchi and enough kimbap rolls to feed an army. The staff tuck in easily, as if they don’t notice that two fifths of the band are absent. Minho and Jinki have started drinking too, each of them having a temptingly cold beer, whilst Taemin sticks with water and picks half-heartedly at the hwe.</p><p> </p><p>A whole hour rolls by before Kibum, Jonghyun and Jin turn up, together with the senior members of the creative team. Taemin crowds into Minho, clearing space for Kibum to sit next to him, but Jonghyun takes that space instead whilst Kibum and one of the creative team sits across the table.</p><p> </p><p>“What fish is this?” Kibum asks, poking at the plate in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Croaker,” Minho answers, and points to another plate further down the long table “And there’s also seabass.”</p><p> </p><p>“No rockfish?” Kibum makes an unhappy sound. “Aigoo, can’t you do anything without me? If you’re having hwe, you must have rockfish-”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense,” Jinki replies. “Cod is best-”</p><p> </p><p>“Cod?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s the same conversation – or argument – they’ve been having since they acquired both the money and freedom to visit restaurants as a group, and Taemin watches with fondness as his members bicker over the best way to eat raw fish.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The conversation has turned to gossip, as it always does when they do dinner and drinks during comeback season. Most of the stylists have gone home, and as the circle grows smaller the gossip grows more salacious. This and that group are having a comeback too, their budget has increased or decreased since the last time, which members have more say in the concept, what promotion strategies are being used; the only difference is that Taemin doesn’t have any gossip of his own to share this time.</p><p> </p><p>It hardly seems to matter. Taking his place is the assistant creative director who hasn’t moved from Kibum’s side all night long; an anecdote he shares about a particular boy group member who tried to dye his own hair pink and instead ended up with streaks of red in his blonde hair has the whole table cracking up – and Kibum wiping away tears of laughter – and Taemin seems to be the only one unamused. He can’t even remember this guy’s name, but here he is acting as if he’s the sixth member of the group.</p><p> </p><p>The mood sobers a little when the waiter comes over with fried shrimp and crackling, and the conversation dies off while he leaves the plates on the table and clears away empty soju and beer bottles.</p><p> </p><p>Kibum takes a fat, golden shrimp and puts it on the guy’s plate. Taemin’s blood runs cold. He knows that look in Kibum’s eyes and he knows the meaning of Kibum giving him the best piece of food, because it used to be him on the receiving end of both of those things.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop staring,” Minho says in his ear, nudging him at the same time. “Bathroom break?”</p><p> </p><p>He can’t catch a break, Taemin thinks miserably. “Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going to the bathroom, leave some food for us,” Minho announces. He practically hauls Taemin out of private room, but once they’re outside Taemin spots a smoker’s corner and heads there instead; if he can’t smoke his own cigarettes, secondhand smoke will do.</p><p> </p><p>“Ewww,” grumbles Minho, but he follows Taemin out anyway.</p><p> </p><p>They get odd looks from the other patrons, but Taemin couldn’t care less and Minho’s not the type to walk away from what he perceives to be a friend in need. The cool night air and the ghost of nicotine calm Taemin’s fraying nerves just a little, just enough to keep him from walking away. “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Minho keeps his voice low. “You can’t get jealous of him dating other people if you won’t tell him how you feel.”</p><p> </p><p>You know nothing, Taemin thinks uncharitably.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>After Jin drops him off at home, with a reminder to set an alarm for some variety show they have to record tomorrow, Taemin changes into sweats and a hoodie and goes out for a walk. The CU around the corner s still open and he gets himself canned coffee to sip on, hoping that the cold drink will soothe the fire burning inside him.</p><p> </p><p>His walk takes him around the empty streets of the business district of Cheongdam. There are a few lights on here and there in some of the buildings; some poor souls must be having a late night, just like him, but of all of them, he is the most pitiful and the most pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>He walks and walks and walks, following the river until he notices the sky becoming light once more. He takes a cab home and hops in the shower, and stands under the spray of cold water until his alarm goes off.</p><p> </p><p>None of it works. He’s just as frustrated and angry as he was last night, only now he’s irritable too.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Jonghyun is the only member there; he’s already got his make-up done and is sleeping flat on his back with only a rolled-up towel as a pillow. Minho and Jinki will take a longer time to arrive, since the dorm is a little further away from the company than Taemin’s flat. There is no sign of Kibum. Knowing him, it could just be that he’s running fashionably late or-</p><p> </p><p>-Taemin shakes the thought away. If he’s dating Seulgi, he can’t very well blame Kibum for moving on either, right?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Taemin-ah!”</p><p> </p><p>His train of thought is interrupted by his dismayed stylist. She cups his face in her hands, turning it this way and that, and fusses. “How did you get so puffy and greasy in one day? This is going to be so hard to cover up.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. She was there, she saw him drink.</p><p> </p><p>She grumbles as she works on him. Taemin barely hears anything she says; the man who looks back at him in the mirror has dead eyes, and he can neither look away nor bear his gaze.</p><p> </p><p>He closes his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>XXXXX</p><p> </p><p>hi everyone! your friendly neighbourhood sherleigh is back with a double update and a title change as well. enjoy XD</p>
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